An Interesting Proposition
by The Similar
Summary: Matthew gets a really strange call from Arthur, inviting him and his brother to come work a job with him. Unfortunately, this job involves guns, Francis and a wardrobe with a city in it. This is so AU it hurts.
1. Introductions Are In Order

Title: An Interesting Proposition

Author: The Similar (Me!)

Rating: T (for language, alcohol, later use of weapons etc)

Authors Note: Translations are at the bottom, please enjoy!

* * *

"Is everybody here?" Arthur asked impatiently. "Good. I've called you here because I have an… _interesting_ proposition to offer you…"

Matthew looked around. Arthur sat behind a desk, Francis lounging just behind him to the left. There were many people clustered into the small office. Everybody was dressed fancy and very professionally. Many stood at the back, with the limited number of chairs all in use. Mathew was one of the people who stood.

"Oui, s'il vous plait se taire. This is definitely most interesting." Francis voiced.

Matthew looked at Alfred, his brother, who stood beside him at the back of the office. "I don't know about this Al… I mean, we have seen neither Arthur nor Francis for years. I don't recognize many people out here either…"

"Matt, it will be fine. They invited us here tonight. Besides, I know more than half the people in this room. Would you just calm down?" Alfred silenced him with a quick glare before returning his attention to the man at the front. "Now listen to what he has to say."

"I need… an exploration team." Arthur seemed to ponder his words, speaking them carefully. "We will disclose little information, you know how it is. We are sure you will find this offer most pleasing."

"This is an expensive exploit, but we will be funding, in both equipment and your purses." Francis winked.

Matthew stayed quiet as the room broke out in chuckles and smirks. The people here were light-hearted and he swore most of them were tipsy as well. He wondered when this would be over so he could go home.

"This is not going to be an easy expedition. It will be hazardous; we will need people who can hold them against the unknown. This may or may not be entirely legal; we haven't had a chance to see and quite frankly, we aren't going to take that chance. We have not come this far along to have our operation shut down by some _stupid_ government. Certainly, if you've helped us before in something, you may have more information on the risks, but this will be different. Today, we discuss the final stage."

Matthew gulped, not really understanding what was going on. Some people nodded, others murmured to acquaintances, but none looked as lost as he surely did. Even Alfred looked like he had a sure idea of what was going on. Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

"I would like everyone to excuse themselves to the parlour in the front of the house, if you feel like you want to stay after what I've just said. Alfred, Matthew, stay here for a minute. The rest of you I will call back in groups, as discussed before." Arthur finished in the same monotone voice he began with.

The mass left slowly, hustling each other around and chatting. Alfred and Matthew moved slowly to the desk, remaining professional and standing. Alfred peered at Arthur down his nose. Matthew stood back, just behind his brother, avoiding Francis' gaze. This was going to get messy.

"So, it's been 6 years and now you finally contact us." Alfred sniffed sarcastically. "And it happens to be a job. Can't say I'm impressed here, Arthur."

Arthur flushed. "Hey, I-"

"Ah, mon cher Mathieu." Francis said lazily.

"Allo." Matthew said timidly.

"No need to be shy, we are all family here, n'est pas?"

"We were, until you decided to dump us on our asses and cut contact with us." Alfred snapped.

"Certes, vous me pardonnez, Mathieu?"

"Je ne sais pas, Francis…" Matthew replied, aware of how rusty his French was becoming. Francis was the only one he could speak French with, and since he had all but abandoned him 6 years ago, he had very little practice, living by himself in Canada.

Arthur sighed. "Look, we want you in on the job. We want you two to be on the inside, because this job actually matters. We trust you"

"What job? Was there other ones?" Alfred asked, curiosity overcoming his annoyance.

"Well, you see…" Arthur began before jumping into a long-winded explanation of what he and Francis had been doing lately. The gist of it was that Arthur had talked to his 'faerie' friends and found out a couple of secrets. Francis had the money, while Arthur had the knowledge. So, for the last 6 years, they had gotten involved in various heists and other dangerous activity that might as well have gotten them kicked off Earth itself. Or at least made his inhabitants mighty pissed at them.

"We have figured out the location of a sacred city." Arthur proclaimed at the end of his mostly unnecessary rant. "Its in an old closet Francis and I bought from Heracles, a Greek black market vender and good friend. We have all these people to help us now because it's very-" Arthur was cut off by a snort form Alfred.

"You mean we're going through a closet? To another 'world'?" Alfred burst out laughing. "It's like Narnia! This is all a joke right? We'll get into the closet; and then what? Let me guess," He paused for effect. "A big fat, NOTHING."

Matthew looked apologetically at Arthur and Francis, the two men who had raised him and his brother together. It did sound very far fetched, but he _guessed_ it could be plausible. Matthew shrugged.

Arthur, obviously fed up and hurt, jumped up and banged his arms down onto the desk. "Shut up, you never believe me!" Alfred jumped at the sudden movement. "I am absolutely serious, so just shut up! I have spent so long planning this, just to have you go and shrug it off!"

"Whoa man, calm down." Alfred raised his arms.

"Calm down? Why don't you calm down?" Arthur yelled at him.

"Why do you always make this my fault? _You_ got worked up first!" Alfred yelled back.

"Francis, pourquoi? Why this big affair?" Matthew asked Francis, collectively ignoring Arthur and Alfred arguing just like old times. "Why not just go?"

"Parce qu'il est dangereux. We need the man power. You will see all the parts of the plan come together later, when we have the other groups come and, visitez-nous." Francis explained, easily slipping into a strange combination of French and English.

Matthew nodded. "Um, il y aura souvent des armes à feu utilisée?"

Francis gave a slight nod. "Oui, mais taire, mon cher, s'il vous plait."

Arthur and Alfred stopped yelling, to glance momentarily at Francis and Matthew. The language was lost to them. Arthur straightened his tie and efficiently cleared his throat, an obvious signal to quit talking in a language he could not understand. Matthew gave Francis a curt nod and turned back to the two other men.

"You will sit behind my desk with Francis and observe us as we conduct interviews and inform the participants of what they need to know. Now, our first group will be our arms team. We will supply them with artillery and they will be able to use it well. They will be our main offence line." Arthur explained.

There was a knock at the door and a little blonde boy peeked in. "The first group is ready to see you!" he squeaked.

"Thank you Peter." Arthur said calmly, sitting back down. Alfred and Matthew sat down on the stiff couch behind the desk and waited for the rest of the evening to unfold.

* * *

The first group came in and out effortlessly. A young man and two young women. Roderich Edelstein, Elizaveta Hedervary and Michelle Verlaque were immediately contracted to work as supervisors to security and the like in the house while the entrepreneurs were going through the closet.

The group was easily persuaded into doing the job when large sums of money were brought up. Michelle's eyes glowed when the initial payment came into question, and Elizaveta had to pry her from her chair and out the door to make her shut up about the cash. Roderich stayed stoic throughout the entire conversation, occasionally sneaking glances at Elizaveta all the while.

They all left easily, champagne in hand, and went back down; to either stay and enjoy the other guests company (unlike, considering the other guests), or to leave.

The group that followed, however, was not so agreeable. They came in quietly, but giving off the air they were all irritated with one another in some form.

"Please, gentlemen, sit down." Arthur said smoothly, pouring out more champagne for his accomplices behind him.

"Pay attention, this team is coming in with us." Francis whispered to Alfred and Matthew.

"Champagne?" Arthur asked, gesturing at them with the bottle.

"No, thanks." The serious-looking blonde one replied. He nudged the shorter man beside him before he could say yes and glared at the rest to make them silent. "We would like to talk about the job without the influences of alcohol."

"Smart decision." Arthur remarked, pouring himself a glass anyways. "I am Arthur Kirkland, and behind me here is Francis Bonnefoy, Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams. Now, I need names, and experience…" he took a sip of champagne.

Matthew observed the crew as they introduced themselves. They were a particular lot.

"Ludwig." The grim blonde one said with a tone that implied he had no last name.

The shorter brunette answered enthusiastically in a startling Italian accent, "I am Feliciano Vargas!"

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," the tanned pointed to the man next to him, while grinning, "and this is Lovino Vargas!" Feliciano's brother huffed, crossed his arms, and slumped farther down into his chair.

"And I am Gilbert Beilschmidt." The final man announced, in a slightly German accent, much like the first man. He was an albino, and had crazy red eyes that freaked the hell out of Matthew.

"Very nice, now to business." Arthur hurried. The men were getting more and more irritated with each other as they went on, and this interview would not go over very well if they ended up fighting.

"Long time, no see, Feliciano." Francis spoke.

"Ve~! Francis, what has it been? 10 years?" Feliciano jittered excitedly.

Arthur turned back to look at Francis quizzically.

"We had a couple of jobs a while ago." The Frenchman shrugged.

"Now, gentlemen, back to business," Arthur straightened. "We need you to hold a couple of guns and perhaps knives, if you're lucky, and be able to fire it straight. Think you can handle that?"

Matthew snuck a glance at Alfred, to see how he was handling, but Alfred just stared straight ahead. Matthew realized he was showing no weakness and hurriedly tried to put on the same façade.

Ludwig stiffened. "I think we can handle that just fine, Mr. Kirkland. Feliciano and Antonio have done jobs with Mr. Bonnefoy before, as mentioned, and I'm sure Mr. Jones knows Gilbert." Ludwig's tone shifted, from polite and reserved, to hard, matching Arthur's tone.

"Oh, really? How nice." Arthur took another sip, brushing off Ludwig's threat of Alfred possibly seeing the wrong kind of people. Alfred flushed, surprised. He has indeed met Gilbert, a while ago. Hell, he was his main supplier.

"What will you do if we decline? How will you know we won't bail?" Romano questioned.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Vargas, for bringing that up. Francis, show him what kind of power we have." Arthur replied smoothly.

Francis stood, and pulled his suit jacket open, revealing the gun nestled into the front of his pants.

"It's going to take a lot more then a gun to scare us, Mr. Kirkland." Gilbert snickered cruelly.

"It's not the gun, Mr. Beilschmidt. I have people in this city." Arthur leaned back in his chair. "I have people who can ruin you, not just your life in the working world, but your social life, your underground life. I know who you are. I know who all of you are. And Mr. Beilschmidt, I can quite frankly ruin that little side business you own, I mean, you're practically ruining it yourself."

Gilbert's face burned as he realized what he was talking about. "I-I, b-but" he stuttered, glancing around. Matthew stared on in confusion.

Ludwig calmed turned to Gilbert. "I didn't know about this little _side_ business you have apparently been running. Mein Gott..."

"But surely you must be noticing how some of the guns you order never arrive? Anyways, now is not the time to discuss such matters." Arthur remarked.

Ludwig pulled back, and faced Arthur once again. "Are we in? I think this may be getting out of hand."

"Sure, since you seem to be showing good judgement. Have your team ready for us to leave next Thursday." Arthur concluded, watching as they got up and left.

Peter came in again. "Are you ready for another?" he asked. Arthur nodded, and in they poured.

For the next three hours, Matthew sat and listened to dull business talk of supplying guns, bringing in house-keepers, security, and new technology advances. He leaned again the couch in a horrid slump, until Francis whispered to him again.

"This crew might be coming too."

Matthew sat straight again, this time with half the effort. The newcomers were obviously very foreign, much more then the other ones and Matthew didn't want to decipher the horrid accents he supposed they had.

"Arthur!" A tall, large man in a long jacket and a scarf greeted the man behind the desk. "So good to be seeing you again, yes?" He drabbled on with a thick Russian accent.

"Ivan, how are you?" Arthur looked away sceptically.

Ivan took no notice of Arthur's look; or question, and hustled the two girls behind him into the room and onto the chairs.

"Alfred, Matthew, this is Ivan, Natalia and Katya. I used to work alongside them, but that was a really long time ago." Arthur avoided Ivan's grin and looked down. "Ivan, Natalia, Katya; this is Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams. Natalia will be the medic alongside us, with Katya helping her. Ivan will be… _persuasion_…"

Matthew dipped his head in acknowledgement. Francis looked away uncomfortably.

"Well, now that that's all settled, I think it's time for you go." Arthur said in a rush.

"What?" Ivan's smile gleamed. "But, you have not offered any champagne to us! All other guests left with some."

Arthur sighed. "Fine, fine, here is some champagne; you can finish it on the way out, goodbye." Arthur stood up, signalling that they should leave.

And leave, thank god, they did.

"Mon Dieu, that guy scares the hell out of me." Francis said after they left. "Katya is nice, but Natalia, our nurse? Elle est si froide!" Francis laughed, obviously tipsy.

Alfred turned to Arthur, relishing the few moments they would get before someone else came in.

"Just what the _hell_ is going on here?" Alfred threw up his arms. "All this threatening with guns, what is this? I thought we were just going through a damn closet, not sneaking around doing illegal things!"

"WELL, you certainly know how to do that!" Arthur shot back, referring to Ludwig's obvious comment about his drug habit.

"That was 4 years ago and it's your fault." Alfred huffed, like a child.

"How? How was it my fault?" Arthur said sarcastically.

"You _left_ me and Mattie all by ourselves. Tell me how that is not damning." Alfred said, hurt.

Matthew sighed, "How many more to go?" he asked Francis.

"One." Francis said tiredly.

On that cue, Peter brought the last man in. He was a short, Asian man with small figure. Alfred sat back down with a dramatic sigh and Arthur turned.

"Kiku, where is Yao?" Arthur asked immediately, barely allowing the man to sit down.

"Yao sends his condolences, but he is busy with work. He has sent me instead. He has a unique deal to offer you." Kiku said softly. "He said that the technology and artillery you wanted would come at a much lower price if you took me with you."

Arthur stared Kiku in shock. "What kind of lower prices?" he asked quickly regaining posture.

"A 70% decrease in price; in addition to that, I will be there to show you how to work the technologies." Kiku said, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Done." Arthur said. He offered Kiku a glass of champagne as well, but Kiku declined and left.

Arthur fell back in his chair.

"Finally, we are done that stage. No more hassle."

And not a moment too soon, Matthew thought.

* * *

Authors Note:

Once more, I hope you enjoy! Please review if you would like to. The next chapter will be better, I promise!

Also Michelle Verlaque = Seychelles  
And Katya = Ukraine

Translations:  
(Francais) there will be less next time, I promise.  
Oui, s'il vous plait se taire - Yes, please be quiet.  
Ah, mon cher Mathieu - Ah, my dear Matthew  
n'est pas - translates literally as not, but is used as no (we are all family here, no?)  
Certes, vous me pardonnez, Mathieu - Certainly you forgive me, Matthew  
Je ne sais pas - I do not know/I don't know  
Francis, pourquoi - Francis, why?  
Parce qu'il est dangereux - because it is dangerous  
visitez-nous - Visit us  
Um, il y aura souvent des armes à feu utilisée? - um, will there be guns used often?  
Oui, mais taire, mon cher, s'il vous plait - yes, but keep quiet please, my dear  
Mon Dieu - My God  
Elle est si froide - She's so cold

(German)  
Mein Gott - My God


	2. Getting To Know You

Chapter Two, where Matthew finally gets time alone with his brother; and then gets to know Ivan a little bit better.

* * *

Matthews head pounded dully in his skull. He wheezed as he woke up, his stomach flipping. He hadn't had anything to eat except the champagne last night. He needed a beer…

There was a raid assault of knocks on his door. Matthew sat up and looked around. He was in a tiny guest room, somewhere in the West end of Arthur's sprawling estate. The room was quite simple, with one window, a mattress on the floor, a lamp and a bookcase filled with book whose names blurred. Matthew groggily groped the floor around the bed for his glasses when the violent onslaught of knocks came again.

"What." Matthew yelled at the door.

The visitor paused before Matthews brother pushed the door open and entered. He was dressed casually, in a white t-shirt and jeans, a bomber jacket flung lazily over his shoulder. This was a deep contrast to the smart, navy suit ensemble he wore to the meeting last night.

Matthew shuddered at how badly it had gone. Confusion, fighting, followed by the increased flow of 'clients', to and from the small office. After the last visitor had left, Alfred had gotten up, dragging Matthew with him, ignoring Arthur's splutters and Francis' hapless pleas in French. They ended up staying anyways, finding rooms and falling into them, exhausted. Alfred wasn't going to be in the best of moods today.

"Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, a little bit strained. There were dark bags under his eyes and he hadn't shaved yet.

"Al. What time is it?" Matthew asked, his watch being located in the suitcase across the room.

"10 am!" Alfred replied happily.

"Why are you so damn happy?" Matthew asked, crawling out of bed to pull on a shirt.

"Whoa, are these books in French? Crazy shit!" Alfred exclaimed, squatting beside the short bookcase and ignoring Matthews's question.

"I dunno, what does it say?" Matthew asked, still waking up. He pulled on his glasses and peered at his brother. "Al, whatever happened to Kumajirou? You said you took care of him after you picked me up."

"Kennel. Ooh, Annaliese, Colin et leur amour? What does that mean?" Alfred asked, pronouncing the foreign words in a phony French accent.

"Annaliese, Colin and their love." Matthew replied. He sat back down on the bed. "Al, you can't put a polar bear in a kennel."

"Well, I did." Alfred said stubbornly. "They kept saying how he was such a big 'Newfie' and how rare it was to see an albino one. They practically inhaled him." Alfred slumped against the bookcase, his grumpy mood finally seeping through his shining optimism from before.

"Why did you want to come here so bad?" Matthew finally asked.

Alfred moped for a minute before answering carefully.

"I was so mad when he called me, asking me to come up to London. He asked me to bring you and I was so mad, I dragged you over, just to spite him. And then this. Not any bonding or crap, not even a 'hey, how've you been?' A job, he wanted us for a job. He meant so much to me, Matt, and when he left, I just cracked." Alfred rested his head in his hands, angst emanating from him. "Doesn't it hurt to see Francis again?"

Matthew flinched, unpleasant memories tearing through him. He sighed. "You know that's different, Al."

"Matt, ours was real too; or at least, I thought it was."

"I know. What I had with Francis was just a fling. I mean, I don't regret what I did, but it's over." Matthew explained.

"Isn't it weird," Alfred said, looking up suddenly, "That we each had something for the two guys who brought us up?"

Matthew grinned. "Nah, they only fostered us for four years. Doesn't count, Al."

Alfred smirked. "Wanna know something?" he giggled like a girl, gossiping about a past boyfriend, "Arthur couldn't hold his liquor. That's why he only drinks champagne."

Matthew snorted. "Really?"

"Yeah, he would get so smashed and completely lose his mind. He got so paranoid about it. He watered down all of his alcohol before drinking it."

"Well, Francis used to have this thing for French! And, like, all the time." Matthew snickered.

"It would get him all turned on?" Alfred asked, astonished.

"Mmmhmm," Matthew nodded; a bit too seriously. The boys burst out in giggles again. "Hey, wanna go get a beer?"

"But its still morning." Alfred asked suspiciously.

"Eh, in Canada we drink beer all the time." Matthew lied, waving off Alfred's thought. He was finally going to see his brother again.

* * *

"What, in bloody hell, are you two doing?" Arthur asked stone-faced.

"We're having a beer!" Alfred told him, holding out his bottle. Many more littered the table in front of him.

"Not in my kitchen are you doing anything." Arthur said.

"But Arthurrrrr, where else can we drink it?" Matthew whined.

"I don't care. Besides, that isn't even beer." Arthur spat.

"B-but, then what is it?" Matthew asked, wide-eyed in mock dramatics.

"Ivan's vodka. Read the label," Arthur said.

"But it's all blurry~!" Alfred examined his bottle curiously.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "IVAN!" He called up the stairs. "IVAN!"

The bulky Russian arrived in moments. "Yes?" he asked, grinning.

Arthur shuddered involuntarily. "Matthew and Alfred got into your vodka. Can you take them back to their rooms?" The petit man suggested.

"Yes, I will do it." Ivan answered unblinkingly. He stepped across the room and picked up both of the intoxicated men and threw them both lazily over his shoulders. He crossed back to the door.

"Arthur!" Alfred called.

"Shut up Alfred, I don't want to hear your drunken ramblings." Arthur sniffed.

"But, don't you want some." Alfred frowned, "We all know how long it takes for you to get drunk…"

Alfred winked sleazily as Arthur spluttered in shock. "Why you little git…"

And with that, Ivan carried the brothers out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Hey Mattie, we should get beer more often." Alfred proposed, his slurred voice echoing down the hallway.

"Cheers." Matthew giggled in agreement.

Arthur sighed.

* * *

'What a strange dream…' Matthew thought as he woke up again. He pushed off his covers and looked for his glasses when he spotted a blurred figure crouching in the corner. Matthew leapt up, standing on his bed and against the wall.

"Whose there?" Matthew asked. He couldn't make out the figure without his glasses.

"You are looking for these?" The figure asked in a heavy Russian accent. Matthew sighed.

"Can I have my glasses?"

"Da." Ivan got up and strode across the room in 2 quick steps. Matthew sighed again as he roughly took his glasses out of the hands of the burly man.

They were eye-to-eye, with Matthew standing on his bed. Ivan was smiling.

"I hear you see General Winter every year?" Ivan smirked.

Matthew flushed, "H-how?"

"Do not be worrying, Matthew дорогой." Ivan smiled. "I see him too."

"But Ivan, do you not have money?" Matthew asked. His clothes were designer and he wore a variety of beautiful, expensive-looking rings on his fingers.

"Нет, General Winter is my friend." Ivan grinned. "He lends me the money for this," Ivan pulled open his large coat, revealing the source of the bulk. There was a lengthy array of handguns and knives, all neatly arranged and tucked into Ivan's coat.

Matthew simply gasped, astonished. "So many weapons…"

"I never lose, Matthew." Ivan quickly did up his coat, smiling creepily again. "But I think we should be friends, yes? My sisters seem to like you too."

Matthew thought back to Katya and Natalia, the two stone-faced polar-opposites. "Sisters?" He asked skeptically. "You're all related?"

"Step-sisters I guess." Ivan shrugged. "My father was a very foot-loose man. He never stayed in wed-lock very long. Katya pretty much raised both Natalia and I from birth, since he was never around either."

Matthew didn't know what to say. "I'm, s-sorry?" he offered apologetically.

"Now, Matthew, you come from America, yes?" Ivan carried on, ignoring Matthew's statement.

Matthew felt his face flash red. "N-no." He sighed. "Alfred is from America, I live in Canada." Again.

"Oh? I thought you were being brothers?" Ivan inquired.

"Yeah, but you know how business is." Matthew said.

"Yes… business." Ivan sniggered cruelly.

"Why are you here anyways?" Matthew snapped, beginning to feel annoyed.

"You drank my vodka, you owe me, yes?"

Matthew coloured again.

"But," Ivan drew closer to Matthew, their foreheads pressing together. Matthew suffered his sickly sweet breath. "I can let you pay me back _later_." Ivan snickered before leaving.

Matthew stood on his bed, catching his breath and wondering what the hell had just gone on there.

* * *

No Matthew, it wasn't a dream ;D

Translations:  
(Russian)  
дорогой - darling/dear  
Нет - no

From the last chapter, Gilbert was Alfred's drug dealer, his 'side' business was stealing some of Ludwig's imported guns and selling them for himself.  
From this chapter, General Winter is a loan shark.  
More on Alfred/Arthur & Matthew/Francis' strange relationships further on in the story.

Please stick around for the next chapter?


	3. Getting Very, Very Confused

Chapter Three; In which Matthew gets very, very confused.

* * *

"So there's the kitchen and the pantry and the dining room and that's the other dining room and there's the staff dining room and the staff kitchen and—" Peter chattered blithely. Matthew was only half-listened.

After Ivan had left, Matthew had climbed off his bed, sweating, and pulled out his cell phone to find out where Alfred was, only to have Peter Kirkland, an annoying-ass kid with huge eyebrows, tell him he needed to visit Natalia to have some work done. He wasn't even related to Arthur, so his having the name last name as Arthur was totally pointless.

"Is this why Ivan, Katya, and Natalia are still here?" Matthew had asked, recalling that Ludwig and his posse had been asked to return later.

"Yes!" Peter had responded enthusiastically.

"But what about the others? When will they get their tests done?"

"They won't. Ivan and company hate them and they return said feeling. Having them here together would result in a brawl, something we can't afford before you go into the wardrobe."

"Oh, then why are you inviting them both to come in anyways?" Matthew had asked.

Peter shot him a 'don't-ask-can't-tell' look and lead him out of his room and into the grand mansion.

"Hey, Peter," Matthew began, interrupting the small mans tirade.

"Yes?" Peter beamed at Matthew, his large blue hat wobbling precariously on his head.

"Why do Ivan and his sisters hate Ludwig and them?"

"Well, it's a long running feud. Ivan and Gilbert hate each other very much. Mostly because of the business they're both in. Their work constantly overlaps and when it does, they like to spite each other a lot." Peter smiled again. "So, by default, Natalia and Katya hate Gilbert too; and his team for that matter."

"Oh… What are these tests?"

"Just blood samples and stuff. Typical hospital things, because Natalia and Katya are now your hospital." Peter explained. "Just watch what you say when you're in there. Natalia isn't… the _nicest_ person…"

"Oh… Francis said she was cold."

"She's freezing!" Peter giggled at his lame attempt at a joke. Matthew smiled half-heartedly. "Well, this is it. Good luck," he unexpectedly deadpanned.

Matthew gulped, a little worried of what he might find behind the door he and Peter had stopped in front of. He pushed it open and entered.

* * *

"And how often do you exercise?" Natalia asked eyes glued onto her clipboard.

"Well, I walk my dog twice a day…" Matthew said nervously.

"Okay, none then." Natalia said seriously.

Matthew looked around. They were in a tiny room, with stainless steel cabinets lining the walls. There was a curtain in the corner and two chairs faced the bed Matthew sat on. The air was awkward, as it was just Natalia and Matthew in the room.

"And have you ever handled radio-active material without _all_ of the proper equipment?"

"Uh, no?" Matthew wasn't sure if she was serious or not. "Is that a real question?"

Natalia smoothed down the front of her heavy, navy dress. "Yes." She said, stone-cold face remaining. "Why? Never seen the outcome?" She pulled her chair closer to the bed, glowering at him. "You know Aleksander? Well, he has a brother from Iceland, Daníel, who handled radio-active material without the proper equipment. He has had a cold for the last 7 years. Nothing can make it go away." She leaned back. "That's why it's important."

"Uh, who is Aleksander?" Matthew asked, becoming confused again.

She raised her eyebrows at him, as to say 'really?' and went back to writing on her clipboard. Matthew took the hint and shut up.

Just then, the door creaked open slightly. Natalia's head snapped up and she glared at the door before she realized it was Katya. Her gaze softened, but she didn't say anything to greet her; instead, she went back to her papers.

"Hi." Katya said shyly, opening the door and carefully picking her way across the equipment in the crowded room. She sat down in the chair beside Natalia and smiled hesitantly at Matthew. Matthew gaped.

"Matthew, this is my sister Katya." Natalia motioned beside her with the pen she had been writing with.

They looked nothing alike. The only thing they had in common was their hair colour, a dull platinum blonde. Natalia was short and slim, while Katya was taller with bigger shoulders. Natalia's hair was long, while Katya's was short. The biggest difference, however, was their… chests. Matthew blushed and looked away from Katya.

"Hello," he said cautiously.

"Hello" she greeted. "Как испытания происходит?" She asked Natalia.

"Хороший…" Natalia responded.

Matthew smiled awkwardly.

"Sorry, my English is not very good." Katya apologized.

"Katya has not been in the business as long as Ivan and I have." Natalia explained. Katya nodded absent mindedly. "So she has not picked up as much English."

"And you spoke Russian before?" Matthew inquired.

Natalia shook her head, "Only after we met Ivan did we start speaking Russian. I lived in Belarus with my mother before, Katya in Ukraine. After we met him though, Russian came easy. Belarusian, Ukrainian and Russian all have the same alphabet. Kind of like your English and French."

Matthew recalled Ivan saying that he was raised from birth by Natalia and Katya. "When did you meet?"

"When I was four, I went to Russia to see my father." Katya explained.

"Ivan was only a baby then. I went when I was three; two years after Katya had begun living there." Natalia added. "Now, I have to take some blood samples. Please remove your shirt."

Matthew hesitantly raised his arms, pulling his loose, red shirt over his head, revealing his pale chest underneath. He felt flustered.

"Hmm…" Natalia tapped her pen against her chin and scribbled something down on the clipboard. Katya pulled out a small case and opened it, revealing an assortment of surgical tools and needles. Natalia contemplated before pulling out a fairly large needle.

Matthew sighed. This family just had sharp implements and weapons everywhere he turned. First Ivan's coat, with all the guns and knives, now Natalia's first aid box, what was next? Matthew looked around, hoping to not look suspicious. He noticed a belt looped around Natalia's waist, three knives tucked into it, shining whenever she moved her arm to reveal them.

Matthew sucked in his breath, trying not to look like an easy target. Which, with all the questioning, he had probably failed.

"Natalia, there was something I was want to ask you…" Katya said with horrid grammar. Matthew grimaced.

"Katya, it's 'I was wanting to ask you'." Natalia corrected. "But go ahead."

"Why are you hating Daníel so much?" Katya asked innocently. Natalia startled, almost dropping her needle.

"Matthew, please give me your arm." Natalia commanded. Matthew nervously raised his arm and looked away. He hated needles. "Well," Natalia began in a forced tone. "брат is always so nice to him, but he does not return his affection." Natalia growled, stabbing the needle into Matthews arm. Matthew jumped, but Natalia continued taking his blood.

"Shouldn't we be using a tourniquet or something for this?" Matthew suggested, unnerved by Natalia's anger.

"No," She fixed him in place with a callous look. "We will do it this way. If you cannot handle this, you will not be able to handle what is coming." Matthew shuddered, thinking of her knives. "If you die, well, that is your fault." Matthew jumped, staring wide-eyed at Natalia.

"But why is it him you hate?" Katya asked, heedless of her sister's mood.

"It is because I work so hard and брат doesn't care enough for me, but then he is going and acting nice to Daníel all the time. Why will he not acknowledge me? All Daníel does is cough on him and get him sick!" Natalia snapped.

Katya smiled anyways.

"Прекрати!" Natalia barked, obviously very irritated with her sister. She yanked the needle out of Matthew's arm, wrapped it fiercely in gauze and stalked out of the room.

"I think I made her angry." Katya said collectedly to Matthew.

Matthew gawked at Katya. "Uh, yeah, I think so. Can I go now?"

Katya took a quick look over at the clipboard before looking back to Matthew, beaming, and nodded.

Matthew jumped up, clumsily pulling his shirt on again, careful to not tug on the gauze. He made a mental note not to get too close to Ivan, or he would probably come face to face with the sharp ends of Natalia's knives.

Matthew shuddered, looked at Katya, and hastily made his way back out into the house. He was too disturbed by what had gone on in the small room.

* * *

Matthew had been wandering around the vast house for a while before realizing he was lost. Perhaps listening to Peter would have helped him, but it was too late now. He was lost.

Suddenly, he heard voices. Matthew hurried to them, hoping they could help. He hadn't had anything since the vodka this morning and he was hungry. He scurried down the hallway, seeing a bright light flood down the corridor. Even though it was about mid-day, when you got into the recesses of Arthur's house, where there was no windows, the light was scarce.

He wondered where all the money had come from. 6 years ago, when he had visited London last, the last time Arthur and Francis had invited, hell, even called him, there was no lavish mansion. There was a cute little house. Sure, it was larger than your average, but not this big. Matthew guessed the crime they had apparently been committing had its benefits.

Finally, he reached the room and realized that the too people he had presumed were talking, were in fact, yelling at each other. Matthew stopped, and flattened himself against the wall outside the small sitting room.

"Well, bloody hell Alfred; it's not my fault it wasn't working out!" A gruff voice hollered.

"Oh? Is that your new excuse now? You left me sitting on my ass because it wasn't 'working out'?" Alfred yelled back. Matthew guessed the other voice was Arthur; there was no one else Alfred would talk to like this.

"Well, what else is there to it?" Arthur's voice came again. Matthew snuck a peek into the room and saw Arthur stalking back and forth across the floor in discontentment. Another quick peek showed that Alfred was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and a scowl gracing his face.

"Why did you stop calling me?" Desperation finally broke through Alfred's tone. "I mean, if you have enough nerve to call me here after all these years, you obviously don't hate me. And, I mean, I lived with you. You would have a reason to."

"Because," Arthur said snobbishly. "I had other things to do."

"Like what? Commit crime? Steal things? Sneak around behind the law?"

"Not much better than what you did." Matthew could just imagine Arthur sticking up his nose at this.

"What? What did I do this time?"

"All those drugs, I heard about those."

"Arthur, that's not damn fair. That's totally different."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Matthew smiled. They were fighting again, but now it was getting stupid.

Suddenly there was a cracking sound, like a palm meeting a cheek. Matthew jumped.

"I hate you." Alfred said before barreling out of the sitting room. He flew past Matthew, and in his daze, Matthew just trotted after Alfred, like he used to when they were kids.

"Alfred, wait." He called.

"Shut the hell up Matthew and just leave me alone." Alfred barked.

Matthew stopped. Alfred had never pushed him away like this. He felt more lost then he did before he had witnessed the fight. He stumbled back to the sitting room, because there was only one thing left to do.

"Arthur," Matthew began, peering cautiously into the room. Arthur sat, head in hands, on one of the posh chairs situated around the small coffee table. There was a cup of tea, untouched, in front of him.

"What." Arthur growled before Matthew could continue.

"I need some help. Getting back to my room." Matthew kind of grinned, sort of apologetically. "I'm a bit lost."

"Fine." Arthur sighed. He stood up warily, dragging himself over to the door. "Let's go."

Matthew walked behind Arthur, letting him stew for a while before piping up, "He didn't mean it you know."

Arthur looked back at Matthew. "He should have."

Matthew shut up with that. There was something odd in Arthur's tone.

They were passing through the main foyer, the house still dark. None of the windows were open, Matthew realized, and everything was dusty. It seemed old, kind of forgotten. There were assistants and other house-keepers everywhere, but none of them seemed to be cleaning. Nothing seemed freshly cleaned anyways.

Suddenly, a large banging on the front door to the house ensued. Arthur and Matthew stopped, looking at the large set of doors. A butler moved to open the door for the visitor, but it slammed open without his help anyways.

"Eh, Arthur! Why didn't you tell me you were going? Where's my invite?" Bright light flooded into the dank front hall as a silhouette yelled and pointed at Arthur.

Arthur grimaced. "Oh, hell no."

* * *

Translations:  
(Russian)  
Как испытания происходит - How are the tests going?  
Хороший - Good  
Прекрати! - Stop it!

Ohohoho, Matthew, you sure walked into a lot of fights today ;D  
And ooh, mystery visitor! (Oh god, its so obvious!)

Anyways, thank you for reading!


	4. The Mystery Visitor Revealed

Chapter Four; In which Matthew gets some brilliant ideas

* * *

"So then I was all like, well mate, I can only go to the barbie this weekend if I leave early but then I won't be able to get any of that stuff you promised, 'cos you aren't coming for a while, but then I would have to, like almost miss that meeting and stuff and I don't really want to do that, so I'll have to…" Stephen Kirkland rambled on, casually lounging in one of Arthur's large chairs.

"I'm not going to ask again, Stephen, get the hell out of my house." Arthur was standing, nose turned up at his guest. Stephen continued on while Arthur spoke to him, ignoring everything else.

"But then I stayed anyways, because it was such a blast, so I had to tell my friend that he needed to get the plane ready, but I was kind of smashed, so I told him to get it later, but when I woke up, totally hung over, I totally forgot and then I ended up at this bloke's house, and he was like, getting me breakfast, but it wasn't really breakfast and it wasn't really supposed to be for me and stuff, I don't know, it was really strange."

"How did you get here anyways?" Arthur snapped.

"My friend, he flew me here in an Aussie plane." Stephen finally responded.

"And what the bloody hell is an 'Aussie plane'?"

"Aussie's drive it, duh. Anyways, so I was all like, hey mate, I need to get to my lil bros now, he's got some funky shit going down at his joint, so then I actually had to, like, pay for a ticket because I totally forgot he runs a professional plane, but I got total discounts on it and stuff and I was totally almost this late from missing it but then I didn't so it was all cool, but I was like exhausted and stuff when I got there, you know, from running across the entire airport with all my bags, the customs guys were just _so_ pissed!" Stephen went back to his ramblings.

"I'm your older brother!" Arthur thundered, clenching his fists together. "And how did you get that on a professional plane?" Arthur jabbed his finger towards the small creature crawling over the back side of the chair.

The koala looked up curiously before resuming its methodic climb across.

"Same way I got this baby on," Stephen reached into his jacket and pulled out a very scared-looking possum. He dropped it to the floor and watched it run away.

"That doesn't answer anything!" Arthur cried, throwing his arms up. Stephen ignored Arthur and promptly continues with his story.

"So then I sat beside this lady and she was all like 'Like, O.M.G.' in her posh little accent. Kind of like how you sound, right? It's crazy, anyways, so I was like 'I got some crazy shit right here', pointing to my jacket, right? And then she got all like drug-dealer-phobia or whatever, so I pull open my coat and she sees Freddy, the possum, and she freaks the hell out. It was just so funny and her accent was like the exact same as yours, mate," Stephen explained, gesturing around wildly with his hands, "She was like English or some shit, it was so weird, anyways, I couldn't tell, but the point is I almost get kicked off this plane, I was so close, it was _so_ funny."

"Stephen, I am English, thank you," Arthur sighed.

"And _who_ is this?" Stephen turned his attention to Matthew, "And how come I have no idea who you are?"

"I'm Matthew," he said nervously, "I'm from Canada."

"Well, I'm Stephen, you can call me Steve. I'm Australian, through and through."

"Stephen, you aren't Australian. You've just lived there for the past 15 years," Arthur sighed again, "How did you find out about this?"

"Peter called me," the man said simply.

"Stephen, Peter hates you. Why would he call?"

"He wanted me to bug the piss out of you," Stephen smiled.

"Well, gee, thanks. You've already done so, so why don't you get back on your stupid, bloody plane and go home." Arthur waved his hands around in front of Stephen, as if he were ushering him out. "I liked it better when you were on the other side of the world," he sniffed.

"No way! I'm coming with you, mate!"

"No way in hell." Arthur said stiffly. Stephen sighed and got up. He walked over closer to Matthew, putting on an innocent face.

"But Matt wants me to come, don't you Matt?" Stephen quickly pulled Matthew into a headlock and pulled his mouth down into a frowning face.

"Mmm," Matthew said, unable to speak properly with Stephen's finger dug into his cheek.

"Put Matthew down."

Stephen smirked. Matthew groaned and tried to dislodge himself from under Stephen's arm, but he wouldn't budge. Matthew wiggled around, grasping his arms around Stephen's waist and trying to yank his body away.

"Pleash let meh go," Matthew grunted when Stephen's grip loosened slightly and he could speak again. Matthew continued to try to get out of Stephen's seemingly iron grip.

"What the _fuck_ is this," came a voice from behind them, from the doorway into the small dining room.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned away, huffing at the character in the doorway.

Stephen finally released his grip on Matthew and he stood up straight again, rolling his neck around his shoulders uncomfortably. Matthew turned around to face his brother, but wasn't able to speak before Stephen did.

"G'day mate!" Stephen said, bounding forward to shake Alfred's hand. Alfred stared the man down, jerking away his hand whenever Stephen reached for it.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Alfred sneered, malice dripping from his tone. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed with a scowl written across his face. He was obviously in a very pissed off mood, coming from the argument he had had with Arthur earlier in the afternoon. He gave a look of disdain in Arthur's direction, glowering for a minute, before turning back to Stephen. He hadn't even glanced at Matthew.

"Well, somebody's not in a very good mood," Stephen teased, brushing Alfred's chin with his finger. Alfred reached up and smacked it away.

"Stop that," he hissed.

"Ooh, ouch," Stephen giggled.

"Whatever, I'm out of here. Matthew, come see me later," Alfred huffed with disregard before stomping out of the room noisily.

Matthew stared in disbelief as Arthur coughed quietly and walked out swiftly, looking to be following Alfred, but when he reached the end of the hallway, he turned the opposite way. Stephen scoffed and turned to Matthew.

"Hmm, interesting," Stephen pondered.

Matthew gawked at Stephen, waiting for him to speak again. The whole scene had been so confusing and had ended too quickly.

"So Matt, what got you into this job? Arthur never did have very many friends." Stephen started, "And you definitely look too young to be one of them."

"Uh, well, Arthur and Francis, a long time ago," Matthew mumbled, trailing off near the end. He looked down.

"Oh, I see," Stephen looked at Matthew with raised eyebrows.

"Really?"

"No," Stephen laughed, patting Matthew on the back. "Chill out man. Did Arthur really never mention me?"

"Yeah," Matthew grinned, more relaxed now the subject wasn't on him. "You said you were his brother?"

"Yeah, he doesn't talk much of me, 'cos we aren't in the best relationship. I like to push his buttons, and he doesn't like that much…" Stephen chuckled again. "Apples, she'll be though, he'll forgive me. Eventually. Anyways, who was that bloke that came in here after though? He seemed mighty pissed too."

"That's Alfred, my brother." Matthew sighed.

"Oh, he seemed like Arthur, don't like his buttons pushed?"

"Well, yeah. I guess…" Matthew trailed off again. "He and Arthur got into a fight earlier this afternoon. Usually, you'd be the one with your buttons pushed and you would be so sick of him you wouldn't want to look at him again. He's very outgoing." Matthew smiled.

"Oh?" Stephen looked at Matthew skeptically, wringing his hands together. He looked around, obviously done with the conversation. Matthew looked down, shy. Stephen peered down the hallway and whistled sharply. Seconds later his possum, Freddy, raced down the walk, bounded off of one of the chairs in the room and latched itself tightly to Stephen's head.

Matthew looked at Arthur's brother, head cocked, while Stephen coaxed the koala gentle off of its chair. He had band-aids all over his arms and legs, one gracing his nose crookedly. His brown hair flopped to one side of his head, almost as if he hadn't bothered brushing it this morning.

"What's with all the band-aids?" Matthew asked curiously.

"I get out into the bush a lot, mate. How do you get around in this house anyways?" Stephen grinned at Matthew.

"Well, there's a staircase just beside that hallway—" Matthew was cut off when Stephen threw him a thumbs up and sprinted down the hallway, leaping over the railing and racing up the stairs, koala on his shoulder, possum at his toes.

Matthew shook his head. This day had started out strange, but it just kept getting weirder and weirder. And he still had no idea how to get back to his room.

So Matthew wandered down the hallway in vain, out of the small dining room he had spent most of his day in. He glanced around corners, sort of following the path he and Arthur had taken before Stephen had shown up. There were voices around every corner, but Matthew shied away from them, not wanting any more drama he had gotten into that day. And he still hadn't eaten yet.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that when he reached the front door, he startled, having almost walked straight into the large set of double doors. He looked around suspiciously. There was the butler next to the door, but he looked the other way, seeming to doze off in the abandoned front hallway.

Matthew glanced around again, facing the door, an idea forming in his head. He could leave now. He could honest to god leave. He jumped quickly and unlocked the large doors. The butler turned to him, head swiveling while his body remained still. He raised his eyebrows. Matthew put a finger to his mouth while he giddily swung the door open.

The sky was getting dark, red bands stretching over the horizon as the sun sunk into the other side of the earth. Matthew hadn't realized how late it had become. He would have to stop somewhere for food, his stomach angrily protesting the lack of nourishment.

There were a few houses nearby, so Matthew jogged down the long driveway and through the open gates. He was in a modest neighbourhood, with the few houses being smaller and less decorated. They paled in comparison to Arthur's great estate.

Matthew wondered why he left so quickly and on such a whim. He had nothing in the suitcase he had brought to Arthur's house, just some suits and pyjamas, so he could leave it behind. He had left Alfred there too, after he asked him to see him. Oh well, he was sick of that house anyways. There were too many fights and conflicts going on, people spiting each other. He wished he could go back to his house in Churchill, where he could hole up inside his study, working away at his job. Alfred made fun of him for it, teasing him for creating 'long strings of numbers and letters'.

Scripts, they're called scripts, he relentlessly reminded Alfred. But he never listened.

Matthew was tired of all the weapons. He didn't like how people seemed to be stepping around the subject of this door and Arthur and Francis' 'jobs' before this. He didn't like that everyone was mad at each other for one reason or another.

Matthew stopped. He heard voices, even though there was nobody around. He looked around curiously. There was a commotion happening through an open door in one of the houses he had stopped in front of.

He glances through the door, which led to a long hallway. There was nobody there, so the voices must have been coming from down the hallway, possibly in another room father down?

"Get out of my house! Ton chocolat est merdique et je ne veux pas!" An angry voice came thundering down into the road. Matthew could barely make out the French; it was spoken in such a harsh tone. Something about the man not wanting any of their chocolate, and how it was bad… He wondered who they were talking to.

"You know what? Your French is shit!" A lady's voice yelled.

There was some murmuring before the house went quiet again and a woman barrelled out the door, knocking into Matthew. He looked at her as she clumsily tried to keep from dropping the cake she held balanced in her hands.

She ran off without another look at him, sprinting to the house across the street from the one she just came from, her traditional dress flapping in the wind. The doors of both houses slammed shut and the street became silent again.

Matthew sighed.

* * *

Translations:  
(French)  
Ton chocolat est merdique et je ne veux pas! - Your chocolate is crap and I don't want it!

Thank you, as always, for reading!


	5. Strange Happenings?

Chapter 5 in which the author apologizes profusely and tries to remedy with multiple barrel rolls and a flying handstand.

Disclaimer I've forgotten on all other chapters: I really don't own Hetalia. I mean, if I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?

* * *

"Kesesesesesesese…" A dark shape looming over Matthew muttered.

After being brutally knocked out of the road, a body had slammed against him. Matthew had been knocked out for more than a few seconds, he was sure. He was also pretty sure he had landed on his glasses.

The weight was lifted as he heard a German accent yell, "HEY! Bastard, we're WALKING HERE."

"Waddahell?" Matthew slurred. He rubbed his head and sat up.

"Bastard almost ran us over," Gilbert said, helping Matthew to his feet. He pointed out a car that had crashed into a tree. Through the slight fog he saw without his glasses on, he could make out a shape, leaning against the wheel.

"Uuummm, my glasses?" Matthew asked hopefully.

"This them?" Gilbert clumsily placed a pair on Matthews face.

"Uuh, yeah." They were fine luckily. "Shouldn't we help that guy? See if he's dead or something?"

"Nah, he tried to kill us by running us over and stuff," Gilbert brushed his suggestion off and began walking back up the street towards Arthur's house.

"But he could be DEAD."

"So? We could be DEAD."

Matthew gestured uselessly to the car and sighed.

"Fine."

Ad they walked back down the road.

From behind, they heard a shout.

"Oh my GOD. Are you serious? Did you HONESTLY drive while high AGAIN?" The girlish shriek came from behind them. Matthew turned his head to look over his shoulder to see a blonde woman yelling at the car. The man who was behind the wheel previously was lazily crawling through the window.

"Well, he's not dead." Matthew began.

"Damnit! You don't almost kill awesome me and expect to live!" Gilbert looked so pissed out of his mind, Matthew had to continue shuffling him forward in order to keep him from walking over and snapping the other mans neck with his bare hands.

"So, why are you out here anyways?" Matthew said idly, hoping to lead the conversation elsewhere while he steered them both back to Arthur's.

"I was following you." Gilbert pointed out bluntly.

Ignoring the simplicity of Gilbert's creepy-ish statement, Matthew continued on, "I thought you guys weren't coming until Thursday because of some shit or something?"

"I'm hiding in Arthur's basement 'cos West kicked me outta his." Gilbert shrugged, as if it were an everyday occurrence. Matthew didn't think twice that it could have been.

"… how did you get in?"

"Through a couple of windows," Gilbert shrugged again. "Almost got shot in the ass a few times, no big deal."

Matthew looked at the silveret walking beside him who had gone off rambling about how he was so awesome and other such things. He was kind of reminded of Alfred and Stephen. In a weird way.

"So then I said, hey El'za, how come you and Rodney don't ever come visit? Not that I care about Roddy, piano-playing-wuss. And then she said 'Oh Gil, you're so handsome! Make love to me!' so I was like 'No problem baby!' and then we…" Matthew stopped listening to Gilbert, throwing in the occasional nod or agreement.

"So I was like OH MATTHEW YOU'RE SUCH A MANWHORE." Gilbert looked pointedly at Matthew. Matthew kind of looked back at Gilbert, wondering if he had said something important while he spaced out.

He nodded uncertainly.

Gilbert burst into immature giggles, patting Matthew on the head.

"Hey, stop that." Matthew said, swatting Gilberts hand away. "What?"

"Nothing. So after El'za left, she…" Gilbert went back to rambling about some girl name Lizzie or something.

Eventually they came to Arthur's and Gilbert gave Matthew a quick, mock salute and dashed off into the bushes. Everything was so weird here, from the people to their actions and back again.

Matthew sighed and walked up the front steps and into the house.

Once inside the doors, Alfred barreled into him. He grinned. Of course. One idiot to the next.

"Matthew, we're having dinner!" Alfred giggled- yes, giggled, and pulled at Matthew to follow him. Obviously drugs of some kind, Matthew thought, but there seemed to be no good drug spots here. Strange.

There really wasn't anything here to get this excited about, especially not dinner.

Matthew took a minute to stare at Alfred in shock, wondering where the hell his pissy mood from before had gone. He wasn't able to perpend either mystery for long, as Alfred's excited mood got to him. As it normally did.

"Are we seriously going to all attend dinner together tonight?" He asked in disbelief.

"Hell yes! But those commie bastards are gonna be there. And that kid Peter." Alfred said, brow furrowed.

"Commie… Bastards? What?"

"They're Russian! They're obviously spies and want to infiltrate the wardrobe and spread communism!"

"Yeah… Uh-huh.. No. What kind of proof do you have?" Matthew asked skeptically.

"Welllll, uhhhmmm…" Alfred thought for a minute, pulling an exaggerated thinking face.

"Besides, Russia isn't even a communist country anymore! And two of them aren't even Russian! Where are these ideas coming from, you seriously have no idea what you're talking about, do you?" Matthew argued.

"Well, Ivan carries around a pipe. I saw it! It had blood on it!"

"Mmmhmm, I'm sure it does." Matthew teased.

"WILL YOU TWO STOP SPEAKING SO INCRDIBLY LOUD!" Arthur called from a room over. "I CAN HEAR YOU THROUGH THE WALLS."

"MAYBE WE DON'T WANNA." Alfred yelled back.

"ALFRED, JUST GO BE A UNICORN SOMEWHERE OR SOMETHING. AND DON'T BE LATE FOR DINNER OR I'LL CURSE YOUR ASS SO BADLlyyyy…" With that, Arthur trailed off, obviously moving away from the wall to find something, probably his 'spell' book.

"C'mon, we're gonna be late." Matthew urged Alfred, who was still pouting at the wall.

"Well, maybe I don't wanna go." Alfred said loftily, standing up straightly, chest puffed out, proclaiming his distaste of dinner activities.

"What are you, seven? Hurry up!" Matthew said before adding "Or Ivan might eat you!"

He pretended not to notice the flash of panic that flew across his brother's face before he raced down the hallway, rambling on with something about hamburgers and the like.

Dinner was definitely going to be a long affair.

* * *

OH GOD IM SO SORRY I REALLY AM. REALLY TERRIBLY SORRY. AND SO SHORT Q^Q

So I opened up a poll on my profile for the pairing of this fiction. Because I really didn't have one in mind while beginning this. Which was a mistake. I don't care if you never read this ever again GO VOTE GO GO GO GO. NOW.

Please, please, please go vote. Most of them are quite silly, but I'll write them all, really. I really will. Also, its multi, because I don't know how many people will actually vote at all. So more votes, yes?

Review if you want any more side pairings! I don't care what you say, I don't really care about the pairing, even if it isn't canon AT ALL, it helps me go. I also want to figure out my audience.

/cue nonimportant stuff

The first few chapters included more angst (or at least my 'attempt' at it) than I'd like to admit. From here on out, it will be much more humourous. Because I prefer it more.

As always, thank you for reading and reviews are like rainbows and kittens and pudding for lunch!

EDIT2; OH HELLZ YEAH (i think) I FIXED IT


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